


Racetrack Enchanted

by SpraceJunkie



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Abuse, An Ella Enchanted/Cinderella AU that nobody asked for that you're getting anyway, M/M, Steampunk, Uhhh the Delanceys are Bad and always have been Bad and always will be Bad pls and thx, and I'm still not totally happy with the ending but it's okay enough for now, and couldn't get a good ending, which i've been working on for like two months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 19:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13107000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpraceJunkie/pseuds/SpraceJunkie
Summary: Racetrack Higgins was an obedient young man. He did what he was told, when he was told, every time, without fail.Not because he wanted to.Because some idiot of a fairy godmother had “blessed” him with the ever so amazing gift of being perfectly obedient all the time.





	Racetrack Enchanted

Racetrack Higgins was an obedient young man. He did what he was told, when he was told, every time, without fail.  
Not because he wanted to.  
Because some idiot of a fairy godmother had “blessed” him with the ever so amazing gift of being perfectly obedient all the time.  
It wasn’t as if fairies were common, most had been chased away to the outskirts, the remaining wilds, once humans had started to realize that really, technology was better than magic. More reliable, less unpredictable, controllable, and best of all, everyone who could afford to could use it, rather than only those who could afford the high price of hiring a fairy to do what they needed to be done. Steam and metal didn’t have the same risk as a flesh and blood, if that’s what fairies were really made of.  
No, fairies weren’t common, but they were drawn to the rich, and that the Higgins family was. Noble father, nobler mother, they had money and were proud of it, and thus the fairies were drawn to them.  
Which was why, when he was still a baby, one had shown up, announced she was his fairy godmother because she wanted to be, and proudly announced he would be obedient until the day he died, much to his mother’s horror.  
Fairies, you see, have different rules than humans. They don’t think the same way. So his fairy godmother, who never showed up again, never considered that making Race obey everything he was ever told to do could be a bad thing. She never stopped to consider that perhaps a kid would tell him to do something like, say, jump of a bridge, and he’d have to do it.  
So his mother had taught him to be disobedient. To rebel in the small ways. His father would complain of his impertinence, his mother would encourage it.  
If his tutor said, “do the problem,” he’d do the wrong one.  
If the maid said, “pick up your feet,” he’d pick them up briefly and put them back down immediately.  
If his father said, “come here,” he would move so slowly and speed up the smallest amount possible every time he ordered his son to go faster.  
Until he was almost fifteen, that system worked fine. Listen to what you were told, but don’t be afraid to resist a bit. Wait as long as you could, but give in as little as possible when you have to.  
Until his mother got sick, and until his mother died, because then he was all alone, with a tutor who was frustrated with him and a father who was home three times a year and nobody to talk to, because he couldn’t risk it.  
And then another unwanted mother figure showed up, Eliza, the exact opposite of his real mom, superficial and mean.  
She insisted Race call her “mum” and she was so sickly sweet it was obviously an act, and yet his father fell for it and the next thing Race knew, Mum was moving into their home and bringing her own sons with her.  
Oscar and Morris were the definition of “evil stepbrothers.” They were both stupid, and stupidly cruel. They didn’t hesitate to order Race around, and they weren’t long to pick up on the fact that he always listened, even when he obviously didn’t want to.  
“Clean my room.”  
“Clean _my _room.”  
“Make me food.”  
“Give me your money.”  
“Don’t tell Mum.”  
“Go sleep outside, nobody wants you here.”  
As time went on, it turned into less of Race being made to do what they didn’t want to do, and more of Race becoming essentially a servant in his own house. Eliza didn’t care what was happening to him unless it directly affected her, and Oscar and Morris took great joy in forcing Race to give up his nice clothes and things in favor of moving him into long since unused servants quarters that barely even had a clock, let alone any of the machinery Race had been used to. And he didn’t have a choice. He was stuck, because he’d been told to do something, and after all, Racetrack Higgins was an obedient young man.  
It went on like that for a long time, Race doing the work his stepbrothers didn’t want to unless his father was home, when he was allowed back in his room and to wear his clothes and relax for however long his father stayed home.  
Other than those few times a year, he was even more isolated than he ever had been.  
Especially now while his stepbrothers and stepmother got ready for the coronation ball, and Race was the one fetching spare parts and tying Eliza’s hair pieces and buttoning jackets and fixing the detailed masks all three of them were wearing.  
Technically, he was invited, too, everyone was, but realistically, he wasn’t going. The nicest clothes he had left weren’t nice enough to present to the crown prince who would be king by the end of the weekend. And anyway, the prince wouldn’t care about him. He wouldn't have talked to him, anyway, since it would be dangerous. Anyone could tell him to hurt the prince and he would do it. He have had to.  
At least he’d actually get to sleep in his own bed, since in the hurry neither of his stepbrothers had ordered him not to like they often did.  
“Racetrack! The bird fell out of my hair! Put it back!”  
“Yes, Mum.”  
“Race, tighten the sash.”  
“Yes, Oscar.”  
“Fix this strap!”  
“Yes, Morris.”  
By the time his stepfamily was finally out the door, Race was ready for a nap.  
Instead, he got a woman.  
A large woman wearing the most unnecessarily detailed dress he’d ever seen in his life, complete with a moving train and an actual cuckoo clock built into the bodice, draped across his bed like she was trying to seduce him.  
He wasn’t even attracted to girls.  
“What the hell.”  
“Honey! I’ve been waiting for you!” She sat up, smiling like it was perfectly natural for her to be in his room. “Why aren’t you ready for the ball?”  
“Who are you?”  
“Your fairy godmother, of course! Didn’t your mother tell you about me?”  
It took Race about twenty seconds to process that.  
“You’re the one who did this to me!” A fleeting look of confusion crossed her face.  
“Did what, honey?”  
“You made me obedient! This is your fault!”  
“Now, poppet, that’s no tone to take when talking about a gift! Obedience is a wonderful thing! You’ll always want to help the people you care about, you’ll never need extra convincing to lend a helping hand!”  
“Or maybe the people I hate can use it to make me a slave and maybe I can’t have a friend because they’ll make me a slave and maybe I couldn’t even go to the coronation balls because not only did my ever so wonderful stepfamily make me give up everything I own but there’s also the chance somebody could tell me to kill the king and I wouldn’t be able to say no! Maybe your little gift has made my life hell since my mother died!”  
Now the fairy looked completely offended.  
“Obedience is one of my favorite gifts to give, sweetheart.” While every other pet name she’d used had been dripping with sweetness, sweetheart was icy cold and mean. “I give it to the families I love the most. You, sweetheart, are a lucky one.”  
“How is it lucky to not be able to choose for myself what I do? They tell me to cook, I cook, even if I’m so tired I’m about to fall over. They tell me to clean, I clean, even if I’m so hungry I’m dizzy. I can’t say no to anything without getting sick! It’s not a gift, it’s a curse!”  
“Well if you’re going to talk to me like that, I’m just going to leave!” Race grabbed her arm before she could.  
“Take it off first!”  
“I can’t and wouldn’t if I could!”  
“You shouldn’t do magic you can’t undo!”  
“You shouldn’t treat your godmother like this!”  
“I didn’t ask for you to make me obedient!”  
“And I didn’t ask for you to be ungrateful!”  
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you made me obedient for life!”  
“Let go of me!”  
“No!” Even as he yelled at her, he could feel the magic working, more powerfully than usual, instantly putting him off balance as he tried to ignore the dizzy spell. As soon as he fell, the fairy sidestepped, the birds in the clock on her bodice fluttering as indignantly as she was, twisting her arm out of his grasp.  
“There. Now. Would you like to know why I came here in the first place?”  
“Not particularly.”  
“Well, dove, you’re going to the ball tonight! I brought clothes!” She snapped her fingers, and in a disconcerting whirl Race found himself in a suit fancier than anything he’d ever worn, let alone anything he’d sent his stepfamily away with. The vest had metallic embroidery, shimmering with either magic or the gold it was made of. He had complex gloves made of some kind of chain mail so thin he could barely even feel it, but the metal was so bright whenever he moved his hand it glinted. A deep red shirt and fancy boots that went past the knees of his black pants completed the look, and his fairy godmother looked proud.  
“Perfect. Now, are you going to go?”  
“No.” As much as he might have wanted to go before, a combination of impertinence and logic made him change his mind as soon he actually had the chance.  
If this fairy woman wanted him to go, he wasn’t going, not to mention the fact that if his family saw him, he’d face worse than not sleeping in a bed when they got home. No fancy outfits could change his face.  
“Now, lamb, why not? You were just complaining earlier that you couldn’t go to the balls, and I’ve been planning these outfits for years, love. You simply have to go!”  
“And I suppose your fancy magic will protect me from my stepfamily when I get home? Or not let them see who I am? And you can promise nobody will tell me to do something that will hurt somebody else? Like, I don’t know, the prince who’s going to be king in three days?”  
“You’ll just have to be careful about orders, hon, but here!” She literally pulled something out of thin air. “Masquerade balls, yes? A mask will solve the identity problem.” She held it up for him to see, a silver mask with some kind of red stone set along the cheekbones and eyebrows, and engraving to make it match the pattern on his vest. “Beautiful, no?” She stepped close to him and ignored his flinch while she fastened to mask to his face.  
It wasn’t as cold as he expected, and whatever it was made of was light enough that he could tell it wasn’t going to bother him.  
“Now do you want to go?”  
“No.” Race folded his arms across his chest.  
“Well, I didn’t do all the work for these outfits for nothing. Your carriage is outside. Go to the ball.” She smiled triumphantly when he immediately started reeling from trying to ignore the command. “No godson of mine is staying home from a chance to win the heart of a king. Nor are you throwing up on me or that outfit. Go on, out with you, get in the carriage.” Without meaning to, Race gave into the four orders, mindlessly climbing into the old fashioned carriage.  
He wasn’t the last to arrive at the ball, plenty of people were fashionably late and plenty more were just plain late, but he did stand out. Most people came in their steam powered cabs, decorated with more shiny metals than probably necessary.  
Race’s carriage was just that, a carriage, as ornate as the rest of his getup, but it was pulled by a mechanical horse instead of a real one, and that was unusual.  
And, when he climbed out, he didn’t have a name to have announced, so he supposed he must have been rather mysterious as he walked up the palace steps, some strange man in detailed clothes and a ridiculous carriage with no name who just appeared at the first of the three coronation balls.  
He was much less out of place inside the ballroom. Most people were wearing masks, even if they weren’t quite as ornate as Race’s, and everyone had on their best clothes. Full skirts, with detailed embroidery and detailed tops, vests and pocket watches and gloves, everyone trying their best to be rich enough to impress the prince, who was sitting above everything, looking bored.  
He was in blue, his mask more elaborate than anyone else’s in the room, coming around the top of his head in a crown instead of being fastened with a ribbon or chain.  
However, he didn’t seem to be enjoying himself very much. While most people were dancing or talking cheerfully, he was sitting in his throne, ramrod straight and serious, just watching everyone move. His parents were near him, although they looked more relaxed, smiling.  
Race didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t seen Oscar and Morris or his stepmother yet, although he knew they were there, and he didn’t know anyone who wouldn’t tell them right away. Anonymity was his old helping hand, he couldn’t afford for his family to know he was here or it wouldn’t end well.  
He also was perfectly aware he couldn’t just leave, his godmother had seemed like she was planning on making him go every night whether he wanted to or not and it would be disrespectful to leave after ten minutes only to show up again the next night.  
He was stuck, and he had no idea how to proceed, so he ended up finding a seat in a quiet corner of the ballroom.  
At least the food was absolutely delicious. There were plenty of servers drifting around, and every time one of them saw him sitting they brought whatever they had on their trays over for him to try.  
People tried to talk to him once or twice, but most of them drifted away again after a few minutes of awkward, forced conversation he didn’t know how to continue.  
“May I have this dance?”  
There was one he hadn’t heard yet.  
He looked up, expecting to see a random man he’d never seen before, probably an older man if he was asking some random person he’d never met to dance, or somebody who didn’t like that Race was sitting alone.  
Instead he looked up into the face of the prince, still wearing his mask, still looking bored.  
“I...yeah.” He stood up, accepting the hand the prince had extended to him, slightly confused.  
“You look like you want to be here about as much as I do.” The prince offered as an explanation when they were on the dance floor.  
“You don’t want to be at your own ball?”  
“It isn’t like I threw it. My parents did, in a last attempt to get me married before I take the throne. I have to be here. You don’t. Why are you here, anyway, you look miserable.”  
“I was told to and I have to do what I’m told.” The prince smiled.  
“That makes two of us.” He said.  
He was handsome, Race knew, even though he couldn’t see much of his face under the mask. His eyes were ridiculously blue, although at least part of that was probably reflecting from the blue on his mask. His hands were very warm where they were placed on Race’s waist, and he was a good dancer, able to guide Race through the more complicated steps without tripping either of them.  
“So, you don’t want to find a wife here?”  
“First of all, I don’t want a wife at all, so all of these women are really wasting their time. If I were to get married, it wouldn’t be to one of them. Second of all, I’ve never met anyone I would want to even pretend to spend the rest of my life with. I’ve seen political marriages, and I’ve seen arranged marriages, and nobody involved is happy. Falling in love takes more than convenience.”  
“Wise words.”  
“My parents think otherwise.” They danced in silence for a few seconds, Race completely unsure of his footing, both literally and figuratively. “Are you here looking for a wife? Or husband?”  
“No, I really am just here because I was told to be.” The prince smiled again.  
“We have more in common than you might think, then.”  
“Why did you pick me to dance with?”  
“You were sitting alone, I think your mask looks cool, and I noticed you when you walked in. You’re also pretty much the only one here who didn’t come up to me and try to woo me when you got here. You just seemed less obnoxious than the rest of them, and my parents told me I had to dance with somebody.”  
“You know, your highness, you could just leave. Isn’t the garden out there?”  
“Just call me Spot, please. And yes, but my parents are watching us right now, look.” He casually altered the dance so Race could look back up at the platform where the king and queen were still sitting, and they were indeed watching them. “Once this song is over, I probably will leave the ballroom, at least for a little bit. Although if I don’t take somebody with me, my parents will drag me back in.” Race laughed at the image of the stately monarchs pulling their son in by the arm. “Oh trust me, it’s not beyond them. There have been times when I haven’t woken up on time and they woke me up by having a maid literally dump water on me.” Race laughed again, and Spot smiled, more of a real smile this time. The song ended, and Spot bowed, taking his hands away from Race’s waist. He glanced quickly up at the platform, then around at the people surrounding them. Race did too, noticing that as soon as Spot was no longer actively dancing with him the other people were instantly moving towards them, wanting to snatch up their chance to dance with the prince.  
Spot quickly took Race’s arm.  
“Come outside with me?” Even though the inflection told Race it was a question that he was free to say no to, it was phrased as an order, and even in the split second he considered saying no he could feel himself getting dizzy.  
“Of course.” The gardens, of course, were gorgeous. They were well kept, fountains bubbling and bushes perfectly trimmed, and the entire area smelled nice from the flowers and fruit that were growing.  
Once they were outside, Spot seemed more relaxed, letting go of Race’s arm and just walking around, keeping an easy conversation going but not forcing it. Twice it was obvious they were about to walk in on a couple in a more compromised position than they should have been, and both time Spot made eye contact with Race through their masks and tilted his head to walk away, before starting to laugh soon after.  
After a little while, Spot pulled his mask off, setting it down on a bench before sitting next to it.  
“Look, people are starting to leave.” The clock on the wall read almost one in the morning, and when Race looked out past the gate to the driveway, there were cabs leaving. “Finally.”  
“You really hate this, don’t you?”  
“I’ll get married when I want to get married. I don’t want to get married to somebody I’ve known for three days.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Race, still watching the people leaving, finally saw his family. They were getting into a cab, ready to go home, which meant in about fifteen minutes they would discover Race missing.  
“I have to go.” Spot stood up as Race did, his face shifting into confusion.  
“You don’t-”  
“I do. I promise, I do. I...I might be back tomorrow. Save me a dance?” Race wasn’t quite sure when he started enjoying himself at the ball, probably somewhere back in the shadows of the fig trees, but he was, and he didn’t really like the look Spot had on his face.  
“Why do you have to go so soon?”  
“I thought you were glad people were leaving.”  
“I was actually enjoying your company. I haven’t seen you without your mask, I don’t even know your name I don’t think.”  
“I promise I’ll come back tomorrow. I just really have to go, Spot.” He didn’t wait for another response before hurrying away, slipping around the outskirts of the ballroom, still full of people not yet willing to leave, even though they could come back tomorrow.  
His carriage was still waiting out front, the mechanical horse standing perfectly still in the moonlight. As soon as he climbed in, it took off, bringing him home through side streets.  
It stopped in the courtyard and seemed to vanish as soon as he got out, disappearing down the street out of view much too quickly to be possible. Somehow, he’d beaten his family home, but the fact wasn’t lost on him that they’d likely seen his outfit and he needed to change before they came home.  
He pulled his mask off as he rushed to his room, pulling off layers as he went.  
“Damn boots.” They were laced tightly around his pants and took more time than he felt like he could afford to get off. He shoved all of the clothes behind his bed, hoping Oscar and Morris wouldn’t think to search for anything there anytime soon. As soon as he did, he heard the door open and slam shut, and his stepfamily grumbling as they got ready for bed.  
“Race! Come here!” Oscar yelled from his bedroom down the hall. As soon as Race came in the door, Oscar turned around to have him undo the extra straps across the back of his jacket, otherwise ignoring him.  
“How was the ball?” Race forced himself to ask.  
“Horrible. The prince didn’t even want to talk to us, he danced with one person and disappeared into the garden with him, he didn’t even give us a chance to get to know him.”  
“To suck up to him.”  
“Shut up.” Race let himself obey, falling mute.  
“When you’re done with him, come to my room.” Eliza snapped from the doorway. Race nodded. “Speak up, boy.”  
“Yes ma’am.” Oscar pushed him away as soon as the jacket was undone, and Race helped his stepmother to pull the baubles and ribbons from her hair to to unlace her dress.  
“The ball was awful.” She said. “Although you didn’t ask. The people who were willing to speak or dance with the boys were not people we care to associate with. And the prince snubbed everybody by only dancing with one person and leaving before midnight.”  
“Will you go again tomorrow?”  
“Don’t be an idiot. Of course we will. Rubbing shoulders with the rich makes us seem more rich.”  
By the time Race finally got to fall into bed and sleep, it was well past three in the morning.  
The next day, the routine was much the same as usual. He cooked, he cleaned, he helped force his stepfamily into even more intricate outfits than the night before, and then he started pulling his own outfit back on.  
Putting it on himself was much more time consuming than fairy magic.  
“Oh, sugar, no no no! I have a new one for you tonight.”  
“How do you even get in here?”  
“Locks have nothing on magic.” His fairy godmother was standing in his door, leaning against the frame and looking smug. “Aren’t you glad I made you go last night? Look at you, happy to go off and dance with your love again.” Race felt his face heat up.  
“He’s not my love, he’s just friendly.”  
“Oh, haven’t you heard the court gossip? The prince swore to his parents he wouldn’t dance with anyone, then he danced with somebody in a mask and nobody knows who he was. You, sweetie, I saw my mask. He may not be your love but you’re his.” She giggled with delight and waved her hand at him, replacing the outfit he had almost managed to get completely into with another of hers. “This one is so much prettier, no?”  
Grudgingly, Race had to agree.  
This outfit was silver themed, shirt reflected the light and the embroidery making it even more eye catching, and the vest was dark gray with the same silver thread going through it. His pants were the same as the vest, but the boots had more silver threading, and tonight the gloves were finished with tiny diamonds that made them sparkle even more. When the fairy held up the mask, it was far more intricate than the other one, with thin, looping curls of silver that wound around his ears and with a little adjustment, through his hair, so he didn’t even have to tie it on. More diamond like stones accented it, so when the fairy held up a mirror, grinning, he was sparkling all over.  
“Looking like that, who wouldn’t want to dance with you? Now, the carriage is outside, try to be home earlier tonight, watching you rush gave me a turn, and don’t try to get back into this tomorrow, I have one last outfit. Now, go to the ball!” Out of habit more than anything, Race resisted for a second before giving in.  
Again, he wasn’t the last one there but he was still late, and again, people stared as he climbed the steps into the palace and the ballroom, but tonight, people recognized him as the one the prince had danced with.  
And tonight, Spot was sitting up on the platform, watching the crowd much more attentively than the night before. Race caught his eye, probably because of the brightness of his clothes, and waved slightly. Race waved back, watching the way Spot smiled slightly.  
This time, he was only alone for about a half hour before Spot seemed to materialize behind him.  
“What, do you have an in with the tailor who designed my suits? We’re a pair again tonight.”  
“Again?”  
“Blue and red, gold and silver.” Spot’s outfit was in fact almost a set with Race’s, gold themed and eye catching, although his mask wasn’t quite as detailed as Race’s. It again came up in a crown, but it was simpler than the strands woven through and around Race’s head. “Dance with me?”  
“I did promise, didn’t I.”  
“You did.” Spot took his hand and led him out to the dance floor. Race was hyper conscious of the people watching them, especially once he noticed Oscar and Morris scowling on the edge of the crowd. “Nervous?”  
“People are watching. I’m not the best dancer, either.”  
“You’re fine.” This dance was faster than the one last night, but Spot was again guiding him through it. “And who cares? They saw us dance last night.” The song changed, and Spot seamlessly stepped into the next dance. “Tell me more about yourself.”  
“What about myself?” He tried to keep his feet steady while also trying to not immediately spill every secret he’d ever tried to keep.  
“Where are you from?”  
“North side, not too far from here.” That made the dizziness stop, since he had told Spot more about himself.  
“Who are you?”  
“Nobody important.”  
“So why are you dressed like that?”  
“Looking rich is more important than being rich.”  
“What’s your name?”  
“Can’t tell you that.”  
“Why are you so secretive?”  
“Necessity.”  
“What necessitates hiding your identity at a ball everyone is invited to?”  
“It’s...personal.”  
“Does anyone here know who you are?”  
“No.”  
“How do you get here, then?”  
“Magic.” Spot smiled.  
“Magic.”  
“I’m a friend of the fairies.”  
“So if the fairies sent you here, why didn’t you want to be here last night?”  
“I don’t like being bossed around, and fairies are very bossy.” Spot laughed, clearly thinking Race was telling jokes, which was good. That was easier to deal with than actually trying to explain the magic surrounding him.  
“Well, won’t you at least tell me your name?”  
“Why does it matter? I’m nobody important, you won’t see after tomorrow, most likely.” Now Spot was frowning.  
“What if I want to see you after tomorrow?”  
“You...you can’t.”  
“Why not?”  
“You’re the prince.”  
“And you’re a friend of the fairies. So? I can see who I want to see, it doesn’t matter if you’re not the son of the richest people in the city.”  
“That’s not it. It...I can’t really talk about it.” The second song ended and Spot pulled away, not enough to not be touching Race anymore, but just enough that they stopped moving.  
“Don’t you trust me.”  
“Do you want the honest answer or the oh my god I’m talking to the prince answer.”  
“Both.”  
“The oh my god I’m talking to the prince answer is yes. The honest answer is I’ve known you for two days, we’ve talked twice, how am I supposed to know if I can trust you? And anyway, it isn’t a matter of trust. I’m not allowed to talk about it.”  
“And if I order you to?”  
“Then I suppose I have to, but then it seems to me that you don’t trust me. How can I trust somebody who doesn’t trust me.” Race could barely see Spot’s eyes beneath his mask, but he could tell his frown had deepened into almost a scowl. They started dancing again, but the conversation had stopped entirely.  
“Will you come to the garden with me again?” Race nodded, and Spot led him out the door into the moonlight, the same as they had the night before. This time Spot sat down and took of his mask much sooner, rather than leading Race through the garden first. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Spot still frowning and Race not sure of what to do to re-break the ice.  
“Sorry.”  
“Why won’t you just tell me?”  
“It’s complicated, Spot, I can’t tell you. I just…”  
“Your name, at least.” The clock started to chime loudly, and Race counted the bells, unsure of how to continue. On the twelfth strike, he sighed, looking over at Spot who was watching the first of the guests to leave, mostly the older people and the poorer people, who were already tired or had to work the next day.  
“I don’t want to hurt you, Spot. People will use me to if you know who I am.”  
“That doesn’t make sense.”  
“I can’t explain, Spot, I’m not allowed to, but I promise you if I could tell you everything, I would.” Spot sighed.  
“Who says you’re not allowed to tell me? What right do they have?”  
“Every right.” Race looked back towards the ballroom, noticing more and more people trickling out. “I should go. Do you want me to come back tomorrow?” Spot looked upset, but he still nodded. “Save me a dance.”  
“I will.” Again, Race slipped out around the edge of the ballroom, avoiding people as much as possible and climbing into his carriage, leaving the bright palace behind.  
“Tell me, are you falling for him?” Race started at the voice, coming from right beside him. The fairy appeared, more smug than ever. “Tell me, I said.”  
“Yes.” The word forced its way out of his mouth, causing the fairy to clap gleefully.  
“I knew it! Now, is he falling for you?”  
“How can he be, when he doesn’t even know who I am?”  
“Well, why doesn’t he?”  
“Because if he does, my family will, and they’ll use me against him or just not let me see him.”  
“They can’t get in the way of true love!”  
“Maybe they couldn’t if you hadn’t cursed me, but considering I literally have to obey everything they or anyone else tells me to do, I’d say true love is on the losing side in this one.”  
“Now, honey, don’t get so down and out about it. Tell him who you are, see if that doesn’t solve your problems.”  
“It won’t.” She tutted and shook her head, then simply vanished, leaving Race to glare at her empty seat until the carriage lurched to a stop outside his house.  
It was much the same as last night, although slightly less frantic, hiding his clothes in the same spot, although last night’s were gone now.  
And then his stepfamily got home, yelled at him while he tried to help them undress, and sent him off to bed without actually helping.  
“Okay, sweet, this is the biggest night.”  
“Jesus Christ, lady, it isn’t even noon.”  
“I know. I just got too excited to wait!”  
“You can’t be here! They’re upstairs!”  
“Oh, they're preoccupied with themselves. And anyway, they’re leaving soon, because the ball starts early today, as the coronation is tonight! We have plenty of time to get you ready.”  
“No. No we don’t. You can’t be here until they’re gone, because if they find you, it’s me they’ll hurt! Get out of here!” The fairy looked hurt, but she vanished quickly.  
“Race! Get up here and fix my hair!” Race sighed and pushed himself off his bed, walking as slowly as the magic would allowed him and fixing his stepmother’s hair equally slowly.  
“-and make sure the house is clean when we get home! You’ve been slacking, recently.”  
“Yes, ma'am.”  
“Race! Make sure my bed is made when I get home. I’m tired of you not doing your work.”  
“Yes, Morris.”  
“And mine.”  
“Yes Oscar.” They finally all seemed satisfied with their appearance, and climbed into their own cab to be taken to the ball that tonight started earlier.  
“There. Now they’re gone. Let’s get you ready!” Rather than waving her hand and having him suddenly be in his clothes, she pulled articles of clothing out of thin air, like she had done with the masks before. A vest, a shirt, a jacket, pants, socks, one by one materialized and were laid out on his bed.  
At first glance, this outfit was less detailed than the others. It was more formal, with the full jacket to go over the vest, but looked black and simple. When he picked up the jacket, though, it shimmered. There was something more than the black fabric, some tiny jewels here and there and dark, silvery thread connecting them.  
“I have it on good authority that our prince loves the night sky, so that’s what you’ll be tonight.”  
“Is it a costume ball?”  
“No, but if you look like something he already loves, he’ll realize he loves you!”  
“You’re crazy.”  
“I’m a fairy. We have to be!” Finally, she pulled the mask out of the air and held it up, grinning wildly. “This took me all day yesterday to make!”  
It was stunning. Strands of dark metal wove together into the shape of his upper face and head, with the same style of thin, weaving pieces that would go through his hair to hold it in place as the last one. The dark metal was gleaming, and more constellations decorated the solid plate that would cover the right side of Race’s face.  
“Get dressed! We have a ball to get you to!” The fairy vanished and left Race to struggle into the clothes. It took him more than a half hour to get himself buttoned in entirely, and to get the mask to settle on his head the right way, only for him to realize he didn’t have boots, and when he checked behind his bed his boots from last night were gone.  
“I have the boots for you, here.” The fairy was back in his room again, holding up boots that matched his mask, soft material covered in winding metal and tiny jewels.  
“How on earth do you expect me to get those on?”  
“They clasp, see?” She pulled the metal at the back of the boot open and slipped it over his foot, clasping it again once it was on. “Easy on, easy off, very fancy.”  
“Spectacular.”  
“Now, love, I know that was sarcastic, but you’re right, they are, aren’t they? Specially fit to you!” She leaned forward and tucked strands of his hair into his mask. “Go dance with the prince and try get him to fall in love with you, tonight’s the night!”  
The palace was even busier than it had been the previous two nights, as even people who weren’t coming to the dance were coming to watch the coronation that would take place later in the night.  
In the ballroom, Spot was absent from his throne, but several other people Race didn’t recognize were on the platform, most likely officials. People stared at Race as he entered the ballroom, and it didn’t take long for some of them to approach him.  
Including, unfortunately, his stepbrothers.  
“Aren’t you the one the prince is so infatuated with?” Morris asked, disdain clear in his voice.  
“I suppose.” Race did his best to keep his voice steady, hoping that they didn’t recognize it.  
“He isn’t going to marry, you know. Especially not to somebody who won’t even show his face.”  
“Why won’t you, anyway?”  
“I’ll bet he’s ugly and doesn’t want the prince to know.”  
“I suppose you have scars. The pox.”  
“We should tell him.”  
“I don’t owe myself to any of you. If I prefer to hide my face, then I can do so.”  
“Only a dishonest man would need to hide his face while dancing with the prince.”  
“Only a rude man would assume he has the right to know who I am if I don’t wish him to.” Oscar huffed and turned on his heel.  
“Let’s go, Morris, he isn’t worth our time, anyway.” They walked away, leaving Race on the side of the ballroom, alone. Spot still hadn’t appeared, and people were give Race weird looks as they recognized him from the other balls.  
His mask was more uncomfortable than the other ones, or else he was just much more uncomfortable. He was hot under his jacket, and the boots, while more comfortable than they looked, weren’t exactly slippers, either.  
So he sat down in the same corner he had the first night, taking drinks every once in a while and watching the people around him.  
They were all dressed fantastically. Bright colors were popular, and most of the masks had plumes of feathers or large gemstones set around the eyes. The richer people had moving pieces on their outfits, tiny trains that traveled the zipper tracks or butterfly hairpieces that flapped slowly.  
Most of them were either dancing happily with a partner or talking to other people, trying to prove that they were the richest and best. All of them stood like they were the most important people on the planet, like they were the ones being crowned king, not Spot.  
And when Spot finally stepped out onto the platform, draped in an elaborate suit in royal purple, people barely spared him a glance.  
Race couldn’t really stop looking.  
Instead of an elaborate crown holding his mask in place, it was a simple golden lattice that covered most the top of his face and was held up by a circlet. His suit had threads of the same color making a pattern that wound around his arms and chest. It was gorgeous, just enough of his face was showing to show off his looks, and it complimented the darker gold of the fabric of his suit. He looked completely and totally frustrated about the whole thing.  
He was picking at the threads of his cuffs, and kept adjusting his mask like he wanted to pull it off. He obviously wanted to be pretty much anywhere other than on the platform, dressed up, with people somewhere in between ignoring him and giving him their full attention.  
Spot scanned the ballroom, stopping when he saw Race in his corner. He smiled slightly and waved a little bit, and Race waved back, watching as Spot turned to his parents and said something before stepping down from the platform and making his way across the ballroom to Race.  
“You’re dressed up even more than me.”  
“Guess my inside informant was informed wrong.”  
“Unless they were going for something else. Constellations.”  
“So I guess it is true that you like the night sky.”  
“And I guess you really do have an insider. Not sure if that should concern me or not.”  
“My fairy godmother is just really good at finding things out.” Spot smiled, and seemed to have forgotten the almost fight they’d had the night before.  
“Of course. I forgot that you’re a friend of the fairies. Dance?” Race took his hand and let Spot lead him to the dancefloor, stepping smoothly into the music. “Will you stay through the coronation?”  
“If I can.”  
“Please do. Anyone remotely sane will be a relief. All day long it’s been, Sean wash your face, Sean eat something, Sean get dressed, Sean you know how it’s going, right?”  
“Sean?” Spot laughed.  
“Did you forget my real name? Only people I’m friends with call me Spot, my parents and all the officials and everyone call me Sean.” Race flushed, embarrassed. “I like this mask. I can see a little bit more of your face in it.”  
“Oh. Yours, too.” Spot grimaced.  
“I think it’s ugly, but it’s supposed to be childlike, so when I get crowned it’s symbolic.”  
“That’s stupid.”  
“Yeah. It really is.” The dance Spot was leading was one that moved them around the ballroom, and Race, watching the crowd, saw Oscar and Morris glaring at the pair from the side, never far away.  
“Want to go outside?” Having his stepbrothers watching so closely was making him nervous; he knew they hadn’t recognized him yet, and he didn’t want them to.  
“Sure. The sun hasn’t even set yet, have you seen the garden during the day?”  
“Not yet.” Spot danced them to the edge of the crowd, then took Race’s arm. They walked out the doors into the garden.  
The sun was just starting to set, lighting the trees and paths in soft light. Spot didn’t drop Race’s arm as they walked, almost holding his hand but not quite.  
“Your parents don’t mind you leaving every time to come out here with me?” Spot laughed.  
“They couldn’t be happier I’ve connected with somebody. Although, they want to know who you are almost as much as I do.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“I’m pretty sure I’ll find out one day. I think you like me too much to stay away.”  
“What gives you that impression?”  
“The fact that the first night you didn’t want to be here at all, and tonight you’re the one who asked me to get away from the crowd. Why in such a hurry, anyway?”  
“There are people here who I don’t want to recognize me.”  
“And the plot thickens again. Who?”  
“Well, if I told you that, you’d be able to figure out who I am, so why would I do a thing like that?”  
“Okay, well, why don't you want them to recognize you?”  
“They don’t want me here.” Race answered carefully. “They prefer I stay home and don’t talk to anyone.”  
“Your family?”  
“If that’s what you can call them.”  
“They sound horrible.” Race laughed, unable to keep the bitterness out of it.  
“That’s one way to put it.” Spot sat down on the bench, not letting go of Race and pulling him down next to him.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s not your fault.” Race kicked the ground, making his boots clink against the stones paving the base of the bench.  
“Is that why you won’t tell me who you are? You’re scared of them?”  
“One of the reasons. It...wouldn’t be good if they knew I was here, especially if they knew I was talking to you.” Spot did actually take Race’s hand, then, squeezing tightly.  
“I could keep you safe, you know.” Race smiled sadly, knowing Spot meant it but also knowing it didn’t matter how safe he was, Spot wouldn’t be safe as long as Race had to obey orders. Spot pulled on Race’s arm so Race would lean against him, not saying anything more. Race wasn’t used to physical contact being something he enjoyed; even the simple touch of leaning against Spot and having him hold his hand was more than he’d really had since his mom died. It was nice, and obviously Spot could tell, since he laughed a little bit and pulled Race closer.  
The garden was quiet and peaceful, the sun was setting over the city, and Race was sitting on a bench leaning against a prince who was hours away from being king, and for that moment, absolutely everything was perfect.  
And then he felt his head get snapped back and his hair pulled as somebody forcefully tore his mask off his head. Instantly, he threw his hands up to cover his face, but it was too late.  
“Racetrack!” Oscar’s voice sounded from next to him, surprised and angry.  
Race’s mind raced, even while he could hear Spot talking next to him and Oscar and Morris yelling at him he pulled his arm away from Spot and stood up quickly. His mind was racing, he knew he couldn’t stay but didn’t want to leave, he couldn’t stay with Spot but he didn’t want to have to never see him again, somehow he was walking away, Spot looked hurt and he didn’t remember being told to leave but when he tried to stay he felt himself getting sick and before he really knew what was happening, he was home, staring blankly at the wall, flinching every time a noise came from the upstairs of the house.  
His head had cleared, he was sitting on his bed, anxiously twisting the hem of his jacket, half wishing his stepfamily would just come home and half wishing they’d never come back.  
“Racetrack!” Eliza’s shrill voice rang out from the entrance hall. “Get up here!” He was still numb while he walked up the stairs. “You went to the balls.” It wasn’t a question.  
“Yes.” He tried to keep his head held high, but couldn’t help but flinch when she raised her hand.  
“How dare you?” She grabbed his arm, keeping him from flinching away while she tried to hit him.  
“How dare you?” It was Spot’s voice, coming from the doorway, which didn’t make sense.  
“Your majesty!”  
“Take your hands off of him.” Spot said firmly, stepping into the house completely.  
“Your majesty, I-”  
“Let go of him.” She dropped Race’s arm, and he stepped away quickly, out of her reach. “Are you okay?”  
“I...yeah. I’m fine.” Spot looked concerned, still wearing his gold suit, although the mask was gone. Instead, he had a full crown on, heavy and kind of ridiculous looking. He nodded though, and turned his attention back to Race’s stepmother.  
“How dare you hit him?”  
“Your majesty, I was merely disciplining him. He had no permission to-”  
“He did not need your permission to come to the balls. Everyone was welcome. You have no right to punish him for coming.”  
“Your majesty, the boy is a troublemaker. He wasn’t allowed to attend simply because we were worried about the trouble he might cause.” She had slipped easily into the oily sweetness she used whenever Race’s father was home. Spot wasn’t impressed by it.  
“He didn’t cause any trouble. I enjoyed his company. And if the way he’s as far away from you as he could get, I’d say he’s not the one making the trouble in this household.”  
“Racetrack, explain to the king why you weren’t allowed to attend.” Eliza didn’t know to the same extent Oscar and Morris did that he had to obey orders. His stepbrothers knew that he always listened, even when he didn’t want to. Their mother, on the other hand, seemed to think he’d been scared into listening.  
Her order, in her mind, meant, “tell him exactly what I told him, prove my point.”  
In reality, it meant he finally got to tell somebody, the most powerful person in the kingdom, how they treated him and why he’d had to sneak into the balls.  
“I wasn't allowed to go because they’re scared of what will happen when people finally realize how they’ve been treating me. As far as most people know, I’m treated the same now as I am when my father is home, but it’s a lie, Spot, they make me work, they take away everything I have, I cook, I clean, I make their beds and fix their hair and sew their rips and do their errands. They don't want people to know, Spot, they don't want the other people in the city, they don’t want my father, nobody, to know that they treat me like a servant without pay.” Eliza moved like she was going to try to hit him again, but stopped at the look on Spot’s face.  
“Is it true?”  
“Your majesty-”  
“Answer me. Is what he just said true?”  
“Yes, but your majesty, he needed to be taught discipline and-”  
“I’ve spoken to him more than once, and he doesn’t seem to deserve being treated the way you treat him. Nobody deserves to be hit, to be scared in their own home. I saw his face when your sons recognized him, nobody deserves to feel like that about the people he lives with.” Eliza didn't seem to have a response to that; she simply looked down and didn't say anything. “Race, come live with me.” Instantly, every fear Race had had about what would happen if he got to know the prince came back.  
“Why?” He could feel himself getting dizzy as he struggled to keep himself from saying yes. He couldn’t say yes, he couldn’t live with Spot, even if he wanted to, because he would be the biggest security risk imaginable for the new king.  
“To get you away from here. I want to help, Race, come live with me and I can.”  
“I...I can’t.” He forced the words out, almost painfully.  
“Why not? Please, Race, I want to help. And…” Spot trailed off, not quite picking up on the way Race was struggling to keep his mouth shut.  
“And what, your majesty?” Oscar’s oily smooth voice entered the room, Morris following behind him, both of them bowing respectfully. Race took one look at them and knew they had heard Spot tell Race to come live with him. They knew he had to, and they knew they would be able to reap the benefits of it. He couldn’t let it happen.  
The pressure inside him to say yes was building and building, but he refused to open his mouth, to let the word out. He clamped his hands over his ears, desperately trying to keep himself from nodding. He wouldn’t let himself be put in a position that could hurt Spot.  
He wouldn’t let himself be able to hurt the king, the first friend he’d made in years, the person he couldn’t really deny starting to fall in love with over the course of their three nights together. He wouldn’t.  
The dizziness came in stronger and stronger waves, making a pounding headache to compliment the spinning room. His stomach felt like it was turning inside out, but he refused to open his mouth.  
Race could hear Spot and his stepfamily saying things, he saw Spot looking concerned, he saw Oscar and Morris and Eliza exchanging confused, nervous glances, and when he couldn’t help it anymore he threw up on the ground, still refusing to say yes.  
He started saying everything he could think of that wasn’t yes, trying desperately to get around the magic.  
“I won’t I won't I won't, you can't make me say it I won't say it I won't!” He could tell he must look like a mess, vomit on the ground in front of him, snot and tears streaming down his face. He also couldn't bring himself to care. He was resisting more than he ever had before.  
For a flash of a second, he could have sworn he saw the face of his fairy godmother in front of him, frowning in disapproval, but the vision was gone as soon as he noticed it.  
It was worse than it ever had been before; he’d always given in before it got this bad. He wanted to throw up again, but there was nothing left to throw up. “I won't I won't I won't I won't!”  
Slowly, so he barely even noticed it happening, every time he repeated that he wouldn’t, the feeling got less and less. Eventually, though, it was gone. He didn’t feel as dizzy, he didn't want to throw up, the headache was going away. Spot was kneeling next to where Race had sat down, still talking. When they saw Race’s head clearing, Oscar and Morris stepped closer.  
“Go to your room, Racetrack.” Morris snapped. Race waited for the dizziness to come back, but it didn’t.  
“No.” He said, his voice not a strong as he would have liked, but he was confident. Nothing was happening. He could say no. He didn’t have to listen.  
“Go.”  
“No! I don’t have to!” Spot seemed to sense that Race wanted to deal with his stepbrothers on his own, and he sat back on his heels, watching. Race stood up, his chin high, defiant in a way he’d never been able to be before.  
“Yes, you do.” Morris narrowed his eyes. “Go. To your room.”  
“You can't make me. I want to stay here.”  
“You have to listen. You always have to listen.” Oscar said.  
“The magic is gone.” It must be, if he could say that. His mother had ordered him to never tell anyone, and he could. He could feel it. He could explain everything. “The fairy magic is gone, I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” He laughed, the reality starting to sink in.  
“What does that mean?” Spot asked, grabbing Race’s hand and using it to pull himself up.  
“I had to obey, Spot, everything they said, the fairy made me have to obey. I didn’t want to, I had to, and I broke it. When I said no to you, I broke it, the magic.” Race was smiling giddily, squeezing Spot’s hand tightly.  
Oscar and Morris looked horrified, realizing what it meant that Race didn't have to listen to them anymore. He hoped they were remembering every last thing they’d ever ordered him not to tell about, every chore and prank and girl they brought home, every thing he’d caught them stealing. Eliza didn't seem to understand, which made sense; she’d never really known why he always listened.  
Spot looked confused. He was smiling, clearly happy that Race wasn’t on the ground crying and throwing up anymore, but his brow was furrowed.  
“I don’t understand.” Race shook his head, clearing it more and organizing his thoughts.  
“You remember when I said I was a friend of the fairies?”  
“Yes.”  
“I was telling the truth, kind of. I’m not really their friend, my mother was, and one of them decided she was my fairy godmother and gave me the gift of obedience, only it’s not a gift at all, Spot, I had to do everything they said, everything you said, anyone said. That’s why I didn't want you to know who I am, I’m dangerous, Spot, if somebody told me to kill you I would have had to, but I broke the magic, it’s gone now. I wouldn't be able to tell you if it wasn’t, Spot, I’m not going to kill you!”  
“That’s good.” Spot looked slightly less confused now, more amused at Race’s statement.  
“Not that I was planning to in the first place.” He couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t realized what it had felt like to know he had to listen to everything anyone told him to do until he suddenly didn’t any more, he felt lighter than he ever had before. “But I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself if I had been told to.”  
“He’s lying, your majesty. Clearly he’s sick, he needs to rest. Racetrack, go lie down, don’t bother our king with silly stories.” Eliza tried to put a hand on Race’s shoulder as if to guide him away, but he pushed her away.  
“Don't touch me. I’m not lying, Spot, you trust me, don't you?” Spot met Race’s eye, squeezing his hand back.  
“Yes. I do.” Spot looked around at everyone in the room, not letting go of Race’s hand. “I trust him. I trust he’s telling the truth. And I trust his father will ver very interested to know everything I do.” He paused, considering. Eliza paled, and Oscar and Morris went green, like they were going to be the next ones to throw up.  
Before anyone could say anything else, somebody knocked on the door.  
“Your majesty! Your father is waiting for you at the palace! The ball is not over and people are starting to wonder where you are.” Spot looked back at Race, still in his constellation suit.  
“Come with me?”  
“No.” Race said, reveling in being able to say it without having any side effects. Spot’s face fell, leaving him looking confused and sad. “Not unless you ask.”  
“Will you come with me?”  
“I’d love to.” Spot smiled again, then looked back at Race’s stepfamily.  
“Everyone is welcome at the balls. I won’t stop you from coming back. However, you are never going to touch him again, in any way.” They didn’t say anything, just watched silently as Spot gently pulled Race out the door, back towards the palace.  
For the fourth time, Race was stared at as he walked up the palace steps. This time, however, he was confident. He wasn’t wearing his mask, and a rustle went through the crowd when they saw him, unmasked, entering the ballroom on the arm of the brand new king.  
Several of them recognized him because of his father, many did not. Spot’s parents, not technically the king and queen anymore, smiled when they saw their son, and met Race’s eyes just as warmly.  
Not knowing exactly how to greet them, Race settled on bowing deeply when they reached the dais.  
“This is Race.” Spot said simply.  
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Spot’s mother had a calm, quiet voice, and she had a bright smile. Her colors matched her son’s almost perfectly, although her crown was much more simple than the one Spot was wearing. Race nodded.  
“Sean told about you. Although, he didn’t seem to know much.” His father seemed just as warm as his mother, although more refined, held back, almost.  
“I know more now. And he has good reason to keep secrets.”  
“I’m sure we’ll be pleased to hear all about it.” Spot grinned at Race, a much more open smile than any he’d shown before. “Later. For now, the ball is still going on. Go dance.” Spot’s mother gently pushed Spot towards the dance floor, and he offered a hand to Race.  
“Do you want to go dancing with me?” Race nodded, allowing Spot to once again lead him out to the dance floor.  
The songs after the coronation were faster than those on the other nights. Spot, of course, knew all the steps, and guided Race through them, laughing when Race messed up the steps or stepped on his shoes.  
Race’s boots clicked as they danced, and in the light of the ballroom, the silver threads making the constellations on his suit flashed.  
For the first time in a very long time that he could remember, Race was having fun without being worried at all. Spot was spinning him out and pulling him in, trading partners when required, but always coming back to holding Race close.  
“Do you want to go outside? It’s warm in here.” Spot had lost his jacket at some point during the dancing, and he was flushed.  
“Sure.” Race smiled, followed Spot out through the doors.  
There were more people out in the garden than there had been before, walking mostly in pairs and talking quietly. Their bench, though, was still empty, and after walking for a little while Spot sat down. He looked up at the sky, tracing the lines on Race’s sleeve that matched the stars above them.  
“A fairy really made this?”  
“Mmhmm.” Race was comfortably leaning against Spot, almost in the same position they'd been in before Oscar and Morris had shown up before.  
“What’s her name?”  
“I have no idea.” Spot laughed.  
“You don't know the name of your own fairy godmother?”  
“I only met her the night of the first ball. I knew of her, but not her name.”  
“Fairies don't interact with people much, do they?”  
“Not anymore, anyway.”  
“How did she know how to dress you? I mean, we always matched and tonight she knew I liked the stars.”  
“Magic, probably.” Spot looked away from the sky, back down to Race’s face.  
“There's a lot of magic around you.”  
“I’m a friend of the fairies. It comes with the territory.” Spot laughed again, and Race laughed with him. His fingers hadn’t stopped moving against the fabric of Race’s jacket, simply tracing the threads over and over again, moving around to Race’s back, brushing against his hair, then coming back down to his arms. Race leaned into the touch, content to be close to Spot.  
Like the first night, Spot kept an easy conversation going. If anything, it was better now that they knew each other better. The clock struck two in the morning over both of them still sitting on the bench. At some point, Spot had picked flowers from around the bench, weaving them into a small, simple crown that he’d tucked into Race’s curls.  
“How did you know how to make that?”  
“My sister and I used to make flower crowns all the time, and play at being king and queen. This was the throne, the bench, that’s why there’s wildflowers all around it. Our parents got them planted for us.” Spot smiled at the way Race poked at the flowers in his hair. “I like the flowers better than your masks.”  
“Fairy masks. Everything she made is kind of ridiculous.” Race laughed.  
“I liked the masks. I just like the flowers better.” Spot sat back and admired his handiwork, smiling slightly. He didn’t say anything, just looked, making Race blush. “Hey Race?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Kiss me?”  
“No.” Race again relished the ability to say no. “You kiss me.” Spot laughed.  
“Are always going to be impertinent now?”  
“I wasn’t able to be a bratty kid, I get to be bratty now.” Spot kissed him them, simple and soft and sweet, smiling enough that Race could feel it.  
“I know I said the first night I didn’t believe I could fall in love in three nights…”  
“Change your mind?”  
“No. But I think I want to have the chance to fall in love with you. And I want to give you a safe place. Even if they're scared of me, they’ll try to hurt you again when I’m not there. I want you to come stay here.”  
“Ask nicely and I’ll say yes.” Spot kissed him again.  
“Please come stay here and let us find out if this is real?”  
“If what is real?”  
“This. Us. If I really am already falling for you or if I just think I am.”  
“It’s real, Spot.” Race said softly.  
“Let’s let it develop then. Please come stay here.” This time, Race kissed him, leaning against his side when they parted and getting comfortable.  
“I will.” Spot’s arm went around Race’s shoulders, pulling him close and holding him there, looking up at the sky again.  
“Good.” Quiet music was still coming from the ballroom, where most but not all of the guests had gone home.  
“May I have this dance?” Race asked, pulling Spot to his feet.  
“You may.”  
They danced under the stars, more leaning against each other than following the steps, Spot tracing the constellations on Race’s back over and over again, letting the night pass over them without having to worry, this time, about Race running away or being interrupted. Tonight, the magic was gone and all that was left was them and two sets of stars, together.__

**Author's Note:**

> Hello I'm Asper and it's Friday and I'm tired but also I finally finished this story! Hurray!
> 
> If you haven't read or seen Ella Enchanted, please do, it's way better than this although not Steampunk, which is sad, because Steampunk is incredible.
> 
> Anyway, kudos are loved and comments earn you my eternal adoration! Come talk to me on Tumblr @the-donnynova-band if you want, I love musicals and memes!


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